


Ironwood Hall: Short AU2

by wheel_pen



Series: Ironwood Hall [4]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Haunted Houses, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 05:08:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7495032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another short version of the story, just a few scenes, with an alternate take on the idea. In this case, Charles realizes the house is sentient, but is worried about its feelings for him; Erik, meanwhile, is confident the house will get used to him. Some bits here were incorporated into the official sequel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ironwood Hall: Short AU2

**Author's Note:**

> The bad words are censored; that’s just how I do things. I own nothing and appreciate the chance to play in this universe.

 

They were on Erik’s couch before the fire, clothes in disarray, Charles straddling his Alpha’s lap as they kissed and caressed, voracious urgency alternating with long, slow, delicious savoring. They couldn’t quite decide on the mood they wanted, except that they didn’t want anything to end; but that was alright, they didn’t _have_ to decide.

Outside the wind thudded against the house and flickered the fire in the grate, and the house responded with creaks and groans. Charles tried to ignore them. Erik was certainly distracting enough. But he inadvertently glanced up towards the ceiling at one thump, and Erik huffed at him. “The roof’s not going to cave in on us, Charles,” he asserted, with some exasperation. Not enough to stop sucking on Charles’s collarbone, though.

“I think the house doesn’t like me, Erik,” Charles confessed worriedly. The old house had a mind of its own, and did not automatically provide protection for all under its roof.

Erik scoffed at this, as he always did. “The house loves you,” he countered, nuzzling Charles’s neck.

“It locked me in the pantry closet!” Charles pointed out with some indignation. It seemed like the house often inconvenienced him this way.

“There was a mouse in the kitchen,” Erik reminded him. He clearly found this a good enough excuse; Charles did not. “It let you out after the cat caught it.”

“Not sure how that was really for my protection,” Charles grumbled.

Erik smiled against his neck, hands kneading his hips. “Maybe it was just to keep you out of the way,” he suggested.

“I don’t really find it amusing, Erik,” Charles was forced to say, though he feared his tone would ruin the mood.

Erik was not so easily diverted from what he wanted, however, and merely pulled Charles down and rolled him so he was trapped between Erik and the back of the couch. Which was not a bad place to be. “The house will get used to you,” he stated confidently. Charles hoped the structure was listening closely. “It just doesn’t like change. You’re my Omega and I love you.”

Charles gave in and resumed kissing him; but he couldn’t help remembering the story of Erik’s previous fiancée, who had been found strangled by the bedclothes in her room. She had apparently only been after Erik’s money; but Erik had been fond of her, planned to marry her. There was also a spouse of Emma’s who ended up with a broken neck at the bottom of the stairs, after cheating on her with a parlormaid. No word on what had happened to the parlormaid, but she might not have had much choice in the matter.

Charles did not think he had stooped as low as either of them. But it was an uneasy thing to have on one’s mind, that one was living in a house that judged and executed people. And also didn’t like change.

**

Charles was eating an apple and reading a book, and also walking down the stairs to get some tea, which in retrospect was probably not the most sensible combination of activities. He knew he’d stepped wrong, lurched to counterbalance, and had enough time to think, _This is really going to hurt_ , before he started to fall. Then suddenly something jerked around his waist, which hurt but not nearly as much as falling down the stairs would have, and Charles found himself held fast on the stairs, not falling nor going much of anywhere. He felt and then looked down, and saw that iron bars from the stair railing had reached out and wrapped around him, pulling him tight against the wooden barrier.

His heart pounded and it took a moment to catch his breath. “Cheers,” he finally said shakily, his mind seizing upon the horrible possibility that he could have died right then, broken his neck as so many did in similar household accidents. As Emma’s spouse had, though in her case the house had likely given her a push instead of saving her. He patted the wood gratefully.

It did not retract however, but rather stayed firmly in place, as though it had somehow been constructed that way with Charles in the very middle. It gave off a very unimpressed attitude.

“I suppose I was careless,” Charles admitted. His apple and book were sprawled at the bottom of the stairs, as he might have been. “I wasn’t paying attention.” He thought about promising to do better, but he didn’t know how well he could fulfill that, and he didn’t want the house to ding him for lying. “Perhaps you’d better send for Erik,” he suggested with a sigh.

Charles was not sure how the house did this exactly, but within moments he heard Erik coming in from his studio out back, casually dressed in his work clothes and wiping his hands on his trousers. He stopped when he saw Charles just standing there on the stairs, pressed against the railing. “Is something wrong?” he asked, then tracked the apple and book and hurried up to Charles. “Did you almost fall?” he demanded, grabbing on to him as if this would prevent further spills.

“I _did_ , but the house saved me!” Charles told him, trying to focus on the positive. “I guess it likes me after all.”

“Well, of course it does,” Erik agreed, but he was distracted examining the iron safety belt Charles sported. “Let him go.” He tapped the metal a few times and finally it retracted, uncoiling from Charles like a snake and resuming its place as complicated twists in the railing.

“That’s so lovely, well done, house—“ Charles began, but Erik was yanking up his shirt to check the skin of his belly.

“He’ll have bruises,” he judged coolly, to the house.

“Well that’s better than having a broken leg, Erik,” Charles pointed out. He didn’t want to suggest anything worse.

“Yes, it is,” Erik agreed, hugging him close and kissing his forehead, which was nice finally. “Were you trying to read as you went down the stairs? Honestly Charles, I don’t know how you survived this long!” he added in irritation. “Maybe I should have your bedroom moved to the first floor—“

“Oh, no, Erik!” Charles protested, a bit of a whine entering his tone. He appreciated that Erik cared, but he could be rather overprotective, especially considering the magical house was _also_ looking out for Charles. “I’ll be more careful, I promise!” Now he was stuck trying to do that, he supposed.

“Where were you headed?” Erik asked, and Charles predicted he was going to be led there, by the hand.

“To the kitchen for some tea—“

Erik indeed took his hand and guided him down the stairs, like he was a frail old man. “Next time just ring for tea, that’s what the servants are for—“

“Why is there an apple on the floor?” Emma asked in bemusement, coming around the corner.

“Oh, that’s mine,” Charles admitted, scooping it back up. He would have continued eating it—the house kept itself very clean—but Erik snatched it away from him.

“He almost fell down the stairs,” he complained to Emma, as Charles retrieved his book. “Being _careless_. But the house caught him.”

“It saved me!” Charles reiterated, more enthusiastically.

“Good, I guess it’s getting used to you,” Emma assessed.

“He’ll have bruises,” Erik grumbled, dragging Charles off to the kitchen.

**

It was time for the post. The House did not like the post, because it had to admit the postman onto the Grounds, and open the door to him. But the Master was rather adamant that the post was important, so the House put up with it, keeping a sharp eye on the intruder the whole time.

The Mate also liked the post, and came zinging carelessly through the House when he heard the bell. The House often had to move furniture and even doorways aside so the Mate wouldn’t crash into them, but somehow this did not annoy the House as much as it would have predicted. The Mate liked newspapers and periodicals, and letters from his sister and friends, who were far away.

There was a letter for the Mate today; the House thought he would be happy to get it. But when the Mate saw the writing he became anxious, and opened the envelope reluctantly. When he read the contents he became faint, and the House moved a chair beneath him and read the note itself. Apparently, his Parents were coming to visit, and the Mate was not happy about this.

Tassels on the chair pillow stroked the Mate, the way the Master did when he was upset. “Oh, cheers,” the Mate acknowledged dully. “It’s just… my parents… well, my stepfather…”

The Mate was _frightened_. The House did not like that. Why should the Mate be frightened, when the House would protect him? Parents or not, the House would not admit anyone who frightened its People. The front door was already shut and locked, but the House tried to convey this sentiment by further barring it with two battle axes, borne by suits of armor on either side of the door.

The Mate jumped at the noise, but seemed to get the message (the Mate was often better at this than the Master now). “Thank you,” he said with a thin smile, “but I don’t think we can keep them out.” The House would just see about that.


End file.
